With Whom I Only Whisper
by Gaara and his Little Panda-kun
Summary: He would never speak loudly, even as she grew older, for he would never wish to scare her. Crackfic.


He had known from the moment he had picked her up that he would never be able to set her down.

It wasn't every day that an honorable soldier of the Uruk-hai was presented with this kind of situation. Despite this, he had known that his comrades all would have done the same thing: slain the babe, and moved on without so much as a hitch. He knew they all would have drawn blades on the infant and bled it for sport; it was not every day you got to kill an elfling, and leaving the head behind would have been no less than deeply satisfactory. Oh, and the screams you would hear! To see the head of your darling infant held aloft by the finest, sharpest pike... Revenge for endless hunting and scorn was not so delicious as it was when a child was involved.

But for all his notions of what he should have done, Holsod was aggrieved to find himself doing the opposite.

It had been near midday when the Uruks has finally made it to the edge of the Lorien woodlands, and they had driven inside, on their endless search for a halfling with an elvish trinket. Holsod had been sprinting with the rest of his fellows, armed to the teeth and ready to taste blood, to kill and die for Saruman, as he was told to. The blustering through the forest had been nothing more than barely amusing; and by the time he'd heard it, he was ready for blood.

It had been a long, high cry, hidden deep in the woods. Holsod, Goteth and Thorogoth had stopped and listened for it again, Goteth drawing his cleaver and Thorogoth smiling viciously. The three had waited for the noise to echo the forest again, their eyes darting about as they remained as still as physically possible, the need to hunt and kill lighting a fire in their veins. The noise broke the silence and rose once again, that high-pitched cry that sounded like a wounded animal. Thorogoth sighed, looking to where the rest of the Uruks had disappeared before looking back at Goteth and Holsod.

"This sounds like prey for one, boys," he said, his voice gruff and parched. "I'm not killing it. Too long have I slain Orcs and nothings; I am ready for a challenge." He looked at Goteth, then at Holsod.

After a moment, Goteth grumbled, sheathing his cleaver once again. "I'm not up to it, either," he said, though he sounded rather forlorn about it. "Holsod's never killed a single thing; he hadn't even killed the Orc that pulled him from the womb!" He nudged Holsod rather viciously, jarring the Uruk, who tried to keep his temper in check. "Time for him to earn his chops, don't you think, Thorogoth?"

Holsod was slightly affronted-not killing the Orc didn't make him a less worthy warrior! It made him only more ready and deserving of his first kill, and one to be found in strong, hefty sport, not the kind that lay dying already! He looked to Thorogoth, his anger apparent in his eyes, but to his surprise, Thorogoth merely nodded, looking bored with all of this. "Aye," he said, voice low, "it's time you earned your place amongst us. Look on the bright side; your quarry will no doubt taste better than ours." And with that, he waved his arm, and he and Goteth began sprinting once again through the forest, following the heavy sound of Uruk-hai footfalls, disappearing swiftly through the trees. Holsod was left to his own devices. Grumbling, he took toward the direction of the animal, pulling his cleaver and hacking away at random trees to release pent up anger.

For a while, his thoughts were internal, even as he stopped and listened once again for the sound before moving on, but as time slunk slowly by, Holsod began to voice his anger and ire, muttering and grumbling to himself. "My only mistake is not killing the Orc," he said, his voice tangled in outrage. "The nerve! Orcs are no more worthy of killing than crows! I ought to wring Goteth's neck, the scum. Putting the idea into Thorogoth's head that I'm not one of them, as if killing an Orc had anything to do with it!" He grumbled some more, slashing at a tree branch and watching it fall and roll down his path. It hit something with a thud, and something yelped.

Holsod instantly froze, his body stiffening, ready to kill and feed. He crouched low, listening again for the sound, winding his way through the foliage and trying to surprise the thing. Uruks were never notorious for their ability to sneak about so, but Holsod found a bit of use in trying. He grew still, listening for the sound, his legs ready to spring, his cleaver grasped firmly in hand, ready to break bones and cut deep into flesh...

He jumped in shock when the noise sounded next to him, and he found himself going the other way, **away **from the thing he was hunting, as if afraid! On the ground, he rose to his feet, huffing from between his teeth, thoroughly pissed off by now. He whirled, turning to where the thing was, ready to push the leaves out of the way to see what this thing was and kill it, so he could return to the others victorious.

"I ain't afraid of you," he said thickly, his voice ravenous. He reached for the leaves. "I'm going to gut you and drink your blood."

And then, he froze. His cleaver held high above his head, his other hand parting the foliage, he got a good look at what had attracted his attention.

Two big, blue eyes were staring him in the face, too full of wonder to cry, though long-dried tears stained her cheeks, rounded with what only youth or good food could provide. Her nose was slightly red, her lips dried and slightly parted, and he found himself wondering paternally whether or not she had eaten in the past days. His gaze wandered back to its eyes, which incessantly searched his face, unaware of whether it should be afraid or not. He heard a loud clank, then, and nearly jumped, but he realized his cleaver had fallen out of his grip. The babe did not jump, however, merely sat, watching, waiting for anything to happen.

Slowly, he leaned down, toward the baby, and, finding her unflinching at his advance, slid a hand underneath her head, gently, cradling the fabric that protected her head from the elements. Then, he slid his other hand below her legs, lifting her up to face him. He gazed at her a moment more, and she gazed at him, and he felt a sensation racing through him that other Uruks would have felt shame upon feeling. He, however, only embraced it, resisting the urge to smile at the little elfling he held in his arms.

"You are fair and lovely, little one," he said, his gruff voice lowered to a whisper, so as not to scare her. "Why were you left here, in the woods?" She smiled a toothless baby's smile, and he allowed himself a grin, unwilling to frighten her with his teeth. He adjusted his hand lower on her head to support her weak neck, the swaddling clothes sliding down her sleek hair; and then she saw it.

Her hair was an inky black, a characteristic unheard of in Elves of any nature, especially woodland ones; the Lorien elves were mostly strictly blondes, their heritage too bright to allow anything else. But her hair was darker than even the blackest night, and though it was soft to the touch, it was still not enough to redeem her. Suddenly, Holsod knew the reason she had been left out there in the woods, even in this grave time; she was considered to be a changeling.

"But how..." he whispered quietly, the little elf's eyes watching him, growing warmer with every second. "How could someone leave you out here, little one? Your eyes are too kind, and your patience unfathomable... How could anyone wish to replace you?"

She herself had no clue, and it was apparent. But she also had no care, for she smiled even more at the Uruk, and he felt his heart melting at the sight. He forgot Goteth and Thorogoth, now more interested in the little elf he held before him. Would he keep her? Would he leave her to die? He looked back at where she had previously been laying and decided against it. No, he could not leave her to a fate of starvation and pain. He would not allow her to die. He looked around, and began to head back the way he came, seeking shelter somewhere where he could feed and look after the elfling without being caught by Elves, or, Sauron forbid, other Uruk-hai.

He forsook his mission, his life's meaning, his calling, for something that called out louder. And he thanked, for the first time in his life, the Elven goddess Elbereth, that it had been he who had found her.

* * *

**_I appear to have written a bit of a crackfic. But it's a fluffy crackfic, and I quite enjoy it. There may be more later, or there may not; I'll mark it as complete for now, since add-ons are optional. This is the only part I really wanted to convey._**


End file.
